


Wise Men Say

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Feels, M/M, Pining, Protests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15429903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Grantaire has always been a fool.





	Wise Men Say

**Author's Note:**

> My 100th fic on the Archive!!! :D
> 
> Titles taken from Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley.

**I.** _Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

Grantaire felt the breath knocked out of him as the leader began to speak. "That's Enjolras?" he asked, probably more reverently than he should have.

Bahorel nodded. "That's him."

Grantaire swallowed. "I need a drink."

Baz raised an eyebrow - the 'God, R, why do you always run away from the things you want' eyebrow. "If you say so. Think you can wait until the end of the meeting? There's food and drinks after."

Grantaire shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

Staying turned out to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.

The moment they wrapped up the meeting and started in on the refreshments, Enjolras came over to meet the new person. "What did you think?" he asked.

"Half of it's bullshit," Grantaire blurted honestly.

Enjolras scowled. "I'm sorry. What."

"Well, did you even stop to think about the people this will affect?"

"You can't change the world in extremes," Enjolras snarled. "Unfortunately, for the safety of one group, the safety of another must be sacrificed - temporarily."

"Multiple groups."

Enjolras threw his hands into the air. "Well, if you know everything, what do you want me to do?"

Grantaire snorted. "Maybe ask people if they're willing to make those sacrifices?"

"Of course, they're not."

"Then why would you make them?"

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but Grantaire cut him off.

"Why do you get to decide who's more important?"

Enjolras closed his mouth, brow furrowed in thought. "Well, then," he said, taking a seat. "What would be better?"

They debated that and many other points long after the others had left, until Bahorel was threatening to leave Grantaire behind.

Enjolras shook their hands, then turned the full intensity of his stare on Grantaire. "You should come to the next meeting," he said, with all the conviction of his speeches.

In the car, Grantaire buried his face in his hands. "I really, really shouldn't go back."

Bahorel raised the eyebrow.

"Fuck," Grantaire groaned a long moment later. He scrubbed his face with one hand. "I have to go back."

* * *

 

**II.** _I can't help falling in love with you._

He'd officially lost it.

Grantaire flipped through his sketchbook, shaking his head. Enjolras, Enjolras, Enjolras, sad and wilted daffodils, Enjolras, and Enjolras again.

"Wow."

Grantaire jumped and turned around to see Courfeyrac. "God, Courf, don't sneak up on me like that!"

Courfeyrac grinned. "Well never mind that! I honestly didn't think Enjolras was your type, but here you are, deep in love!"

"You've been reading too many romance novels." Grantaire snorted. "He's not my type at all."

"Really? You're sure?" Courf demanded, pointing to the sketchbook. "I've never seen you so stupid over someone before, ever."

Grantaire shook his head. "Can you please drop it?"

"Alright, alright, for now."

Grantaire supposed that was the best he could get.

"Are you ready to go?" Courf asked, twirling his pocket watch in around his hand.

Grantaire rolled his eyes, grabbed his coat, and they were off.

Once they arrived at the Musain, Grantaire bypassed the bar entirely, heading straight up to the second floor.

Enjolras was already mid-speech, eyes shining fiercely, hair flowing, and hands waving in the air as he ranted about injustice and 'something must be done! who will do it? who will follow me?'

Grantaire's fingers itched, not with the urge to paint, but with the urge to raise his fist in the air and shout 'I will!'

Courfeyrac nudged him from behind.

Grantaire shook his head and moved to his usual spot. 'People don't change,' he reminded himself. 'People never change. Bigots will always be bigots, and you'll always be a cynical alcoholic.'

But Enjolras made him _want_ to be better.

He froze, the breath knocked out of him.

Courfeyrac looked over, frowning in concern.

Grantaire waved him away and ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

 

**III.** _Take my hand, take my whole life, too._

It wasn't Grantaire's first protest. He distinctly remembered the panicked shouts and the smell of the back of the squad car from his last one. It had been pointless. If he had his way, he'd never do this again.

The only reason he had come to this one was because Enjolras had asked him, personally. He'd do anything for Enjolras, it was a bit of a problem.

There were protestors, counter-protestors, riot police, and as demonstration marshall, Bossuet had already dealt with five _agents provocateurs_. By his request, Grantaire was keeping an eye on plainclothes officers on the other side, when he noticed someone getting much too close to one of them. "Boss," he said into his walkie, "top hat, purple scarf."

"I see them," Bossuet said, making his way through the crowd. "It's Montparnasse and Javert again. Oh, excuse me."

Grantaire's eyes widened as the crowd suddenly became impossible to navigate, Bossuet's bad luck at play again. He turned and walked over to their leader. "Enjolras."

Enjolras didn't listen, too busy giving an impassioned speech.

"Enjolras!" Grantaire yanked him down to his level by his sleeve and nodded to the instigator. "We need to go."

Enjolras scowled at him. "We're not going to let them defeat us. You may believe in nothing, but I believe we can make a difference."

Grantaire growled and yanked him off his soapbox completely. "I do believe some things. Right now, I believe people are going to end up killed or in hospital. Do you want that to happen?"

Enjolras snarled, but turned to Combeferre. "We need a strategic retreat."

Then the fight broke out.

Grantaire didn't waste time, he nodded at Combeferre then grabbed Enjolras' hand and ran. When he finally stopped near the Musain, he crouched down on his heels, panting for breath.

"We need to go back," Enjolras said.

Grantaire grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. "Do you want to be arrested? Or shot?"

"I want to help people!"

"You can't! I've tried!"

Enjolras went silent.

Grantaire heaved in deep breaths. "I've tried. I've lost friends. You do everything you can and then some, and it's never enough. People will never change. Bigots will always be bigots. I'll always be a fuck-up reaching for a moving bar. And you - you'll always be trying to win at a hopeless cause. I've accepted that. Why can't you even acknowledge it?"

Enjolras clasped his shoulder with so much conviction it hurt. "Because it's not hopeless. I'll always be trying to change things, because they can be better. A lot of time, a lot of effort.... I have to try and make things different, for the sake of my friends. That includes you."

Grantaire stared in shock. "Fuck it," he decided, and proceeded to try to kiss some sense into him.

Enjolras kissed back.

When they broke apart, they were both gasping for air. "Why?" Grantaire asked.

"Because I wanted to," Enjolras said. "Because I'll always keep wanting to. Because you're precious to me." He smirked. "Even when you're a fuck-up."


End file.
